You're the Inspiration  KurtFinn
by LittleMonster-Gleek
Summary: Kurt's and Finn's friendship grows and changes into something they never would have expected.  No real spoilers, but set immediately after "Blame it on the Alcohol."  My FRIST fic EVER. So advice would be loverly.   Chapter two now up.
1. Chapter 1

"You're the Inspiration"

[This is absolutely my first fanfiction ever. At all. In the history of the world. So if you have advice, please, please give it. I'm working on the second chapter currently, and I'll upload it if this isn't deemed "totally worthless" by anyone who reads it. :D ]

I guess I'd known all along that Blaine and I weren't right for each other. I mean, after getting wasted off of his ass and sucking face with Rachel RIGHT in front of me, it was pretty apparent that he wasn't out to impress.

I mean really, why did I think that Blaine would like me in the first place? He could have his pick of almost the entire student body at Dalton. That, and it's pretty apparent I'm not his type. He prefers shaggy-haired men stuck in depressing, dead-end retail jobs that wear ugly knit sweaters with buttons in awkward places.

(That, and his eyebrows always pissed me off. They're just not cute enough to live on his face. He should pull a Mona Lisa and just shave them off. Seriously.)

I am so through with Blaine.

Of course, the wonderful side-effect of this realization is the fact that I'm now re-obsessing over Finn.

I think it's actually gotten worse.

I'm the kind of person who needs to be in love. I need to have a crush at all times, or I shut down. Patty LuPone would be so disappointed in me. I guess it serves as an inspiration for my singing.

And now that damned Chicago song is stuck in my head.

I was, again, dangerously obsessed with my step-brother, the completely straight Finn Hudson.

I think the fact that I was basically Alex Forrest in "Fatal Attraction" finally sunk in when I stole Finn's pet rabbit and cooked it on the stove to prove that I still loved him. Kidding. Actually, it hit me when I snuck into Finn's room one fine afternoon. I had given myself the excuse that I was returning a CD that I had borrowed, but really, I was just planning on going through his drawers.

It was immediately apparent that Finn was lacking in any sort of organizational ability. Or fashion sense. But that latter bit was ALWAYS painfully apparent.

I used all of my willpower not to spend TOO much time rifling through his underwear drawer, because that made even me feel creepy. I used the rest of my willpower convincing myself that stealing a pair of Finn's underwear was a REALLY bad idea. Besides, I wanted to take something that I could actually wear, and there was no way in hell his waist and mine were even remotely the same size. Thank god.

I mean, Finn totally rocks the fit with a twinge of baby fat look, it makes him adorable and hopelessly sexy at the same time.

I found an old grey t-shirt in one of his drawers that I'd seen him wear once or twice. I think he'd put it away dirty, and it smelled just like him, so I tucked it under my arm. Under it, was a stack of papers; old tests and homework from the looks of it. And the corner of a photograph. I sifted it out of the pile and looked at it. It was a picture of Finn and I, taken at Christmas. He had tinsel wrapped around his neck like a boa, and he had just stuck a bow on my nose. I remembered trying to glower at the camera as the photo was snapped, but it was pretty obvious that I wasn't actually all that pissed off.

All of a sudden the picture was blurry, and it slipped out of my fingers back into the drawer as I blinked back tears. God. I really loved him.

I shut the drawer and stumbled out of the room. Back in my own bedroom, I threw myself on my bed and tried to stem the flow of tears. I thought of things that made me happy, but most of those things involved Finn, and then I was gone. Crying like I'd never cried before. And to my great displeasure, there was a tap at my door.

"Kurt? It's Finn. Can you help me with my Alge-" Finn had cracked the door open and poked his head in. "Kurt, dude, are you okay?"

I choked back a watery chuckle. "Yea." And then to my utter horror, he sat down on the edge of my bed. I probably looked like absolute hell. You know what they say. Crying is the refuge of plain boys and the ruin of pretty ones. Or something like that.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Oh yes. I would love to. Well, Finn, most of the time I want to fuck you senseless every time you do something cute. Like sneeze. Or exist. The rest of the time I want you to fuck me senseless.

"I don't know, Finn, there's not much to talk about."

"If this is about that Blaine kid… I'll rip his dick off if he hurt you."

My mind eliminated most of the sentence and zoomed in on the fact that Finn had talked about touching another guy's dick while sitting on my bed. And just like that, I was hard. Insanely hard. And crying. That was such an odd combination. Sensory overload.

"Thanks, Finn, sweetie. But it's not about Blaine. He and I are still just friends." I shifted slightly, because my erection was stabbing painfully into the mattress.

Finn's child's mind went into overdrive. "But, is it about that then?"

He'd lost me. "Huh?"

He looked so sexy as his mind pieced this next sentence together. "Is it about you wanting to be more than friends with Blaine." He looked proud of his accomplishment as he finished the sentence.

"Oh, Finn. That's very sensitive of you, but actually, between you and me," I tried to smile at him, "I think I could do better."

"Good for you. Go get 'em… Are tiger stripes in this season?"

I think I actually snorted. Finn Hudson had just made a fashion joke. "Yes. They had some stuff in Vogue… didn't you need help with math?"

"Yes please."

And to my utter shock, Finn threw his book open on the pillow next to me, and lay down on my bed. He must have seen my face, because he said: "Come on. We're brothers. This isn't weird."

NO. IT'S NOT WEIRD. IT'S JUST REMINDING ME ABOUT FIFTEEN OF MY KINKY "TUTOR SESSION GOES TOO FAR" FINN FANTASIES.

He tousled my hair, and I gave him my best petulant look. "Now, factorials aren't that hard, all you do is…"

That night, as I lay in bed wearing only Finn's grey t-shirt, I thought about how full and perfect my bed had been that afternoon. And what I wouldn't give to have it that way again.

I must have drifted off to sleep, because I awoke some time later to the sound of breaking glass. Instantly, I was on my feet, and running downstairs, not caring that I wasn't wearing anything vaguely resembling pants. Dad and Carole were already in the living room staring at the newly shattered bay window. Someone had quite clearly thrown a rock through it.

"What the hell?" Finn had appeared on the stairs wearing only a pair of white and blue checked boxers. I chuckled to myself. Combine our wardrobe, and you'd have what a normal person wore to bed. The living room was cold, with the night air seeping through the window, and Finn's nipples were hard. I swallowed.

Dad stomped outside to inspect the damage further and we heard a string of expletives through the open door.

Carole followed him out, and I followed her.

In tall, red, angry letters, someone had scrawled "Faggot" on the siding next to the window. I didn't have enough time to process this, because just then a gust of wind lifted the back of my…er…Finn's t-shirt. I turned around, and there was Finn, with an expression on his face that clearly said "I just saw your ass."

Dad interrupted what had to have been the most mortifying moment of my life with "Kurt, Carole, Finn, go ahead back inside. I'll tape some cardboard over the window and call the police."

"I'm sorry, Dad," I blurted. I felt like this was all my fault, but the sentiment was buried under a chorus of "Kurt, honey, your dad doesn't blame you," "Dude, you didn't do anything," and "It's not your fault."

Finn put his arm around my shoulder, and one of his bare legs brushed one of mine. And suddenly, there I was again, crying. God, I wanted him so badly, loved him so much, and he was never going to be mine. Carole was descending with a comforting look in her eye, but Finn said, "I got it, Mom. You can get some sleep. You have to work in the morning."

Somehow, Finn got me to my room, sat me on my bed, and pulled up a chair next to me.

"Kurt. I know that even seeing that word, let alone spray painted on your house, has to hurt you so much. And I'm so, so sorry. But what people in this town think doesn't -"

He broke off, and I glanced up. He was staring the bit of my thigh that was exposed under the t-shirt. I pulled down the hem, and fidgeted, embarrassed.

"Sorry. I know this must be your t-shirt. It was in my pile of laundry and I didn't notice-"

"No, it's not that. That's okay. It's just… you have really nice legs. Muscular, but still curvy, like Quinn's."

"Oh. Um. Finn. That's nice of you. It must be from all the dance I do…" I laughed nervously, and felt a blush heat my face.

"You okay, then, dude?"

"Yea. Thanks."

"Alright." He clapped me on the shoulder, and I fell backwards onto the mattress a bit. Pretty sure Finn glanced down at my legs again as the t-shit rode higher up my thighs. He locked eyes with me, then, and for once, I couldn't read his expression.

And then he was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

I couldn't get back to sleep. I did all the things that usually made me sleepy.

I listened to some truly heinous Owl City, listened to football on the radio and did my history homework. But I was still wide awake.

This insomnia was all Finn's fault. I mean, I'd always been rather proud of my legs. I'm rather aware that they're one of my better features. But to have Finn comment of this sent my desperate, fantasy-ridden mind into overdrive.

I must have fallen asleep, though, because the next thing I knew, "Burlesque" was blaring out of my iHome. My alarm. I panicked, and went to grab my Dalton blazer when I realized that it was Saturday.

Thank god. Back to sleep.

Wait.

Why was my alarm on?

THE MALL. Finn had promised to drive me into the mall. New York & Co. was having a huge sale, and there was no way in hell that I was missing it. Fuck sleep. I don't need sleep when I have fierce clothes.

I was so sleep deprived that morning that I nearly forgot the third step of my skincare regimen. Imagine, having gone out in public without fully exfoliating.

As I stumbled down the stairs, mumbling the word "coffee" over and over again, I glanced into the living room. Nope, still vandalized. Last night was not a weird dream.

Finn was as bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as ever. Which pissed me off even more. Damn him and his lack of perception. How could he not be wracked by sexual tension to the point of insanity? Oh. Wait. Straight guy. God. Why do I always forget that? To him, I'm just as attractive as that chair. My eyes narrowed as I considered that. Chairs had legs. Finn liked mine.

"I need to go change!" I announced to the kitchen at large, and scurried back upstairs.

Skinny jeans. Skinny jeans. I have some somewhere. I think they're Marc Jacobs. I pawed through my closet, and then I found them. Not the skinny jeans. Better. Much, much better. My pair of leather Gucci pants. They're so tight, they look like they're painted on. And leather is like a "10" on the kinky daywear scale.

I took off the striped button-up I had planned on wearing and threw on a plain white (but still designer) V-neck t-shirt. Kind of a "Grease" look. But not sad clown hooker. Just hooker. Perfect.

I passed Finn on the stairs as I headed back down. His eyes got wide as I passed him, I turned around. And it was pretty obvious that he was staring. So I decided to push it. "Finn, stop looking at my ass."

His reaction was unexpected. Instead of laughing and rolling his eyes at me, he went sheet-white and bolted into his room. Hmmm. Odd.

Carole and Dad were flirting at the breakfast table. Well. There goes my appetite. I cleared my throat in an effort to stop the doe-eyes, but the only effect was that they looked at me briefly, and then went back to their adoring stare. Without breaking eye-contact with Carole, Dad said, "Kurt, are you really going to wear those to the mall? Don't you think they're a little… tight?"

Carole looked up at me. "Wow, Kurt. Who are you trying to impress? Someone cute work at the food court?"

I blushed. Could she have any idea? Probably not. I decided to play it safe. "Well. You know what they say, Carole. 'When you got it…'"

Carole laughed, and said, "Flaunt it. Seriously Kurt, I'd kill for legs like yours."

To which my fawning father said, "I like your legs, Carole." And then they were kissing. Ugh. This was more than I could take at eight in the morning. I poured myself a huge mug of coffee, and headed out to the car to wait for Finn.

After nearly fifteen minutes of kicking a wrench around the garage floor, I decided to go get him. Seriously. We are going to be late. All of the good clothes are going to be gone.

As I stomped up the stairs AGAIN, I yelled, "Finn! Couture waits for no man."

On the other side of his closed door, I thought I heard Finn say my name. I pushed the door open, and immediately an extremely startled Finn removed his hand from his erection and struggled to pull his jeans back up to his waist. For a few seconds, I couldn't think. Or speak. But when I finally could, I wasn't really capable of any coherent sentences.

"Oh my god. Sorry. Finn. I'll just. Wait. Back. In the garage. Sorry. I just. I thought I heard you say my name, and… sorry. I should have knocked. I'm sorry."

He didn't say a word. He looked as mortified as I felt, and we were both blushing so hard it looked like hardcore sunburn. I slammed the door and all but ran back down the stairs. I took some deep breaths out in the garage.

And not forty-five seconds later, Finn was there. He looked so embarrassed that it was almost cute.

"So. Which mall are we going to?" he said in a strangled voice. It was pretty obvious that we were not going to discuss what had just happened. And I was very, very okay with that.

But as I got into the car, I just couldn't shake the feeling that, before I had opened his bedroom door, I had heard him say my name.


	3. Chapter 3

[I'm watching "The Haunted Mansion" while writing this, so if Kurt suddenly turns into Eddie Murphy, I'm really sorry.]

[I was also hungry when I wrote this. So if I talk about food a lot, it's so not my fault.]

At first the car ride was pretty tense. I mean, nothing like having seen your step-brother jacking off to kill the small talk, right?

When I finally was bored beyond all belief, I reached out to turn on the radio. Pink's "U and Ur Hand" blared out of the speakers. I knew it. God hated me. God IS, in fact, a DJ, and he had an awful fucking sense of humor. I switched the station and managed to avoid masturbation-themed music for the rest of the car ride.

Finally, getting out of the car in the parking lot, I could stand it no longer. "Finn, are you never going to speak to me again because I accidentally walked in on you while you were… busy?"

Finn was not listening. "Huh?"

"You know… Riding your own disco stick? Flicking the bean? Charming the snake? Lubricating the love monkey ?"

"KURT!" Finn looked rather scandalized, but then, to my surprise, he started to laugh. "Love monkey?"

I started to laugh too. "Yes. Love monkey." I started to whistle LoveGame, and Finn pushed me slightly.

"Knock it off," he said with a smile.

I looked at him. "I thought knocking it was YOUR specialty." But then I caught look of the sight on his face. "Okay. Sorry, Finn."

We started to walk in, but then, suddenly, there was a voice behind us.

"Hey, homo!" I flinched, but to my credit, didn't turn around until they yelled, "Kurt!"

I used my best pissed voice, "What?"

It was Karofsky and Azimio. Karofsky spoke. "We did some remodeling over at your house last night, Hummel. Did you like it?"

Finn started towards them. "Why you little-"  
I grabbed his arm. "Finn, it's not worth it. Now we know what to tell the police when they come to inspect the damage. Just walk away."

Finn glanced down at my hand on his arm. I removed it. "You're right," he said. "Let's go."

Finn was very well-behaved at the mall. He didn't complain once, or ask when we were leaving. And in fact, he even offered a few opinions (which I pretended to value) on what I had picked out. I think he was slightly worried that I was upset but Dumb and Dumber out in the parking lot, but it's really hard to be upset about anything when you're holding an armful of bargain-priced designer clothing.

He did, however, ask if we were going to the Food Court. I took that as a hint that he was starving to death. "We can go now, if you want, Finn."

"Yes, please. I could eat a whole… well. I could eat more than Lauren Zizes."

"Dear god, Finn. I'm not prepared to watch that."

I got food from Noodles and Company, and Finn went to Arby's, Taco Bell, and Steak-n'-Shake. I guess he wasn't kidding.

As we were eating at one of the tables, a woman in her late twenties came up to us and said, rather excitedly, "If it's not too much for me to say this, I think you two make an absolutely cute couple."

Finn was stunned into silence, per usual, so I smiled at the woman and said, "Thank-you." She giggled, and went on her merry way.

"Kurt!" Finn hissed. "Why didn't you-"

"Correct her? It just didn't seem worth it."

"But-"

"Finn, does it really matter that one random woman at the mall thinks we're doing the horizontal tango?"

Finn, apparently, had decided to load this day chock-full of surprises. He actually blushed, and said, "No, I guess not."

"Wow, Finn. That's very mature and non-homophobic of you. That actually, in some sort of creepy way, means a lot to me."

"You're welcome… I think?"

I smiled. "Yes. Well. I have to use the restroom. Do you remember where they are?"

He didn't, and by the time we had tracked down a map, and then the bathroom, I felt like I was bursting. Finn said he would wait outside.

I very nearly ran in, and then skidded to a stop when I saw Karofsky and Azimio turn around from the sinks.

"Hello again, Kurt." Azimio spat at me. "Didn't you see the sign? This is the men's bathroom."

Karofsky chuckled, and then all of a sudden he'd shoved me back into the wall. My head hit a paper towel dispenser, and I felt warm blood on the side of my face.

"S-stop, please. Don't."

He pushed me again, and I fell to the dirty, germ-infested floor. I didn't want to die in such a filthy place.

"Or what? I don't see your boyfriend around to protect you."

Finn! He was just outside the door. There was a chance, if I shouted, he could hear. "Finn!"

They were advancing in an exceedingly threatening manner when I heard Finn say, "What the fuck is going on here?" He'd heard me. Thank Gaga!

"Nothing," Karofsky muttered. "We were just leaving." At first I was afraid that Finn would go into all-out pissed-mode and rip their faces off. But he seemed far more concerned with my fate, and he rushed to my side as Karofsky and Azimio stalked out of the bathroom.

"Kurt? Kurt? Are you okay? Can you sit up?" He tilted me into a sitting position, and grabbed my hand.

"I think so. I hit my head, I think. Is it bleeding?"

"Oh god, yes. Here." He grabbed some paper towels, without letting go of my hand, and held them to the side of my head. "Are you okay? Do you need an ambulance?"

"I'm fine, Finn. Really. I promise. But god, that was scary. Thank you for probably saving my life."

Finn smiled, "It was a life probably worth saving."

At first I assumed Finn was leaning towards me to help me up, but this theory was proved vastly wrong when Finn Hudson, the entirely straight quarterback of McKinley High, kissed me full on the lips.

It was too much to handle. My throbbing head overloaded, and I passed out in his arms.

[The bit with the woman in the food court actually happened to me and my straight best friend. I reacted the way Kurt did, and it was just hilarious. Well, I'm not so sure my friend got as big of kick out of it as I did.]


	4. Chapter 4

[So sorry this chapter took so long. I know, I know. It's ultra-unrealistic. And it's not the best chapter ever. But just think of it as a bridge to the awesome smut I'm planning on attempting later in the story.]

When I woke up, I knew I had passed out. I didn't have one of those 'WHAT-THE-FUCK—WHERE-AM-I' moments that characters have in movies.

I didn't open my eyes right away. I prayed that I was back at home, in my bed. I prayed that somehow, Finn had carried me to the car, and was now far enough away that we wouldn't have to discuss the kiss. But as feeling returned to my body, I knew this wasn't the case. Unless my bed had gotten really hard and tile-y, I was still lying on the floor of that damned bathroom. Fuck.

I sat up. Too quickly. As the room spun around him, the blurry, Finn-shaped blob asked: "You okay?"

NO, I'M NOT OKAY, ASSHOLE. I GOT THE SHIT KICKED OUT OF ME AND THEN YOU KISSED ME. WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT ALL ABOUT?

Honesty was not the best policy here. I answered, "Uh. Yes. I think so," I glanced down at my white t-shirt. It was all bloody and crusty. Great. "Ugh. Finn. That's going to stain. Take me home, I need to wash it out."

Thankfully, our bags were still sitting undisturbed outside of the bathroom. Finn kept looking at me like I was going to collapse at any second, but I was walking, resolutely, on my own.

The cooler outside air slapped at my face in the parking lot, and helped me stay on my feet. Finn dumped the bags in the back and was walking to the driver's side when I suddenly found myself on the ground again. "Damn," I said, "I'm a little bit dizzier than I thought."

Finn dashed around to my side of the car. Instead of proffering his hand to help me, he scooped me up into his arms and placed me into my seat.

If I thought that morning's car ride was the most awkward of my life, it was nothing compared to this one. Finn kept fidgeting, and a few times he'd open his mouth and look at me, as if to speak, only to close it again and re-affix his eyes on the road.

Finally, I'd had enough. "Finn. Pull over."

"What's wrong? Do you feel sick? I can still call 911 if you want me to."

"No, Finn, I'm fine, for the most part. But we need to talk. Now."

"Um.. okay. What about?"

I rolled my eyes skyward, and kept my gaze latched on the celling. There was no way I could look at him while I said this. "Unless I hit my head a lot harder than I thought, you kissed me. In that bathroom. On the mouth."

Finn looked like he wanted to dive out of the car into traffic. "Um, yes. I guess I did. Yeah."

"You GUESS you did? What the hell, Finn. Why did you kiss me?" Oh god, shit, damn, fuck. I'm crying. Why does this always happen to me? "Why did you kiss me?"

And then, to my utter shock, Finn undid both of our seatbelts, and pulled me over into his lap. "Shh. Don't cry. I'm sorry, Kurt. I should have told you first, but you looked so upset, and still so cute-"

I was filled with copious amounts of warm-fuzzies at this statement, until my brain realized that Finn Hudson probably shouldn't have said it. "Wait. You think I'm cute? Finn… what does this mean? You're…?"

Finn looked a little panicked. "I don't know. I might be. All I know is that ever since you transferred to Dalton I've missed you more and more. I've missed you so much. And I started to dream about you. And at first, they were normal dreams. Well," Finn paused, searching for words, "as normal as dreams get, you know?"

I nodded.

"But then, one night I had a dream, and we were together. You know…" He looked at me helplessly, "Really together. And I liked it, so much. And then that was all I could think about. And then Rachel introduced me to her dads, and I got insanely jealous, because that was the exact kind of relationship I wanted with you." He took a deep breath. "So yes. I think I might be. Gay."

He must have seen the incredulous look on my face, because then he said, "Or at least bi, with a very strong attraction to a certain Kurt Hummel."

My brain short circuited for a second, trying to take this all in. "Oh," I said.

"Oh? All you can say is 'Oh?' Come on, Kurt, I'm kinda freaking out here."

Finn did look really nervous. But I still didn't understand. "You mean, before the Dalton thing, you'd never guessed, never suspected? Because I find that hard to believe."

Finn blushed, "Well, I had occasional… insights?" He looked at me. "Is that the right word? Whatever." He took a breath and continued. "The first time Sam changed in the locker room, I caught myself staring more than I should have been. I mean, he's cute, right?"

I laughed outright at his question. "Yea, he is. Not really my type, though."

Finn smiled and looked at me. "Mine neither. Oh. And there was this one thing between Puckerman and I that we don't really talk about, but I liked it a lot more than I let on. Except, even then I caught my subconscious pretending he was you."

"Huh." Finn had efficiently rendered me speechless. I climbed out of his lap, re-buckled my seatbelt, and turned to him. "Let's head home."

"But.." Finn looked at me, obviously expecting some sort of answer from me, some sort of closure.

But I really wasn't ready to reply to his revelation. I really needed time to think.

"You'll have to give me some time to mull this over, Finn. I don't really know what to say."

Finn looked a little heartbroken as he said, "I understand, Kurt, I really do."

I smiled at him. "Thanks. For everything. For saving me and for telling me all of that. Oh. And for carrying my bags."

"Kurt?" Finn looked uncomfortable again. "I have one more thing to confess."

"Oh dear. Well, you'd better just say it, then."

"Before. When I was… in my room? And you thought you heard me say your name?"

I nodded slowly.

"It's because I did. I was… um… thinking about you. I was thinking about how good you looked in my t-shirt."

"Does that mean I can keep it?"

"Sure."


End file.
